by Earl, Collin
“Really,” commented Indigo with some surprise. “What happened?”
Monson quickly retold the story.
“Umm…now isn’t that interesting,” Indigo tilted her head, thinking.
“What’s interesting about that?” asked Monson. “Isn’t that common? A guy does something dumb and a girl gets pissed?”
“Yeah, it’s not that out of the ordinary, but wouldn’t you think that you would have made up by now?”
“Of course, but I guess I didn’t get how important small things like that are.”
“True,” conceded Indigo. “The small things are very important.”
“So how do I fix it?” wondered Monson, feeling like he was finally beginning to understand a little of what was going on. “Just tell me what to do.”
“Fix it?” Indigo flashed him a pitying smile. “I’m not sure that you can.”
“Why not?”
Indigo didn’t answer at first, but her expression became quite indulgent. She placed her hand on Monson’s and spoke in a very deliberate tone.
“You know, ultimately I can’t really tell you what her problem is, but I can tell you this. Girls don’t get that mad at a guy for being a half-hour late. Sure, we rant on a bit just for show, but that’s normal. You won’t be able to fix the problem until you know what’s really bothering her.”
Artorius interrupted. “Are you saying that Taris isn’t really mad at Monson for being late?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” said Indigo with a little sigh. They both looked directly at Monson.
Monson took a deep breath, staring off. It was funny, as much as he wanted to make up with Taris, Cyann was the one who popped into his head in that instant. How could he be so dense? He had never stopped to think about what was really bothering her! How was he going to fix the problem when he did not even know what it was?
“Indigo, can you do me a big favor?” he said, almost yelling at her.
Indigo looked startled but nodded her agreement. Monson smiled gratefully at her, then went for his bag where he searched for pen and paper. He made his way back to where Indigo was sitting and plopped down next to her.
“Can ask what you’re doing?” Indigo sounded amused.
“I’m writing your sister a note.”
“If it says ‘Do you like me? Check Yes or No,’ I’m leaving.”
Monson had to laugh at that one. “No, this has gone on long enough. I’m asking her to meet me later. I want to find out what’s bothering her, and ask her forgiveness, and hopefully that will be the end of it.”
“What about Taris? You did want to know what to do with Taris, right?”
Monson paused, eyeing Indigo. “Yes, I did—do want to know about Taris and all that. Indigo, why do I get the feeling that you aren’t telling me everything?”
Indigo shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because your girlfriend isn’t all that trustworthy.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Indigo sneered. “You should ask her, Grey.”
“I’ll do that—and she is not my girlfriend.”
Monson finished his note and folded it neatly. He liked to think that he was more mature than this, but something about the prospect of trying to get Cyann’s attention in the main hall shot ripples of fear down his back. No, this was the better way to do it, even if it was a bit childish. Monson handed Indigo the note and was thankful that she took it without comment.
They changed the subject, chatting about random and unimportant things. Indigo was fussing about their dance group while Artorius and Monson pretended to listen. Monson was attempting to keep Cyann and Taris far from his analytical side. There would be time for that later, away from everyone.
Casey reappeared looking pleased, followed by a flushed Christy. He meandered towards Artorius and Monson as Christy continued to follow closely behind him.
“Hey Grey,” Casey adjusted to find a comfortable spot on the grass. “Have you and Christy met?”
“Yeah, I think so, though it was like the first week of school, wasn’t it? You haven’t been around much since.”
Christy giggled, though the joke was lost on Monson.
“You remembered.” She sighed with relief. “That is so great because I totally thought that you wouldn’t and...”
And she was off. Christy started telling all of them about her family, friends, her dad’s business, her mother’s social calendar, and sister’s husband. She talked about anything and everything under the sun for a solid twenty minutes. She talked so much that it did not even seem like she was breathing. After a while, Monson began to wonder what it would take to freeze her; then he scowled at himself, thinking that something like that would probably kill her and of course he did not want to do that. After another fifteen minutes, though, he actually started to look within himself, praying that the magic would come.
The ring of his phone saved him. The flying envelope was back. Monson stood up, excusing himself from Christy’s endless chatter. Not very many people had his number so Monson had a pretty good idea who it was. Sure enough, he unlocked his phone and the name Grayson flashed across the screen.
***
It took a bit of time for Monson to convince his two friends that they did not want to come with him. Especially since Grayson had just introduced them to his particularly attractive assistant. After some time, Monson was off by himself, leaving a distracted Casey still listening to Christy’s rambling and a giggling Artorius and Indigo.
Monson knocked on the door as soon as he arrived. Marie immediately opened it.
“Master Grey,” she said, again with the curtsy. “Come in, Master Grayson has been expecting you.”
Monson gave Marie a brief smile and walked into the living area. He gaped in surprise. Everything was totally normal. Grayson’s books, posters and even his computer appeared to be undamaged, like Hurricane Grey had never occurred. Grayson smiled as he noticed Monson’s stunned disbelief. He simply pointed at Marie in answer.
“She got here earlier than I expected,” said Grayson, speaking without the accent.
“No way,” Monson said, looking for the girl over his shoulder. “She did all this?”
“Amazing, huh?” Grayson’s lips curled into a devious grin. “It’s almost like magic.”
Monson hesitated, glancing in Marie’s direction. Grayson correctly interpreted the look on his face.
“It’s OK, she knows all about it.”
Monson dipped his head once. “Good, and don’t say that stuff like that. It makes me want to vomit just thinking about that Being of Seven Bloods business. Though between you and me, I wish I’d had access to my Kei a little while ago. Would have saved me a great deal of pain.”
“What happened?” asked Grayson, his coolly relaxed features stiffening up. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
“Only my ears. Do you know Christy Wayne?”
To Monson’s surprise, Grayson started to laugh.
“I take it you know her.”
“Not personally, no.” Grayson actually had tears in his eyes. “But I have a very good source who tells me that she has a huge crush on Cassius, and that she tends to talk a lot when she’s nervous.”
“She must have been really nervous then.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“On to the business at hand,” Monson said, changing the subject to more serious matters. “Did you get me a copy of that journal? Is that why Marie is here?”
“Yes, but that’s not all. Come and take a look at this.”
Monson moved towards Grayson, who was hunched over two items. The first was a freshly bound leather book that Monson could only assume was his translated copy of the journal. The second was just as unremarkable: a plain metal box. Monson pointed to it.
“What’s with the box?”
“This,” said Grayson, grabbing it off the table and handing it to him, “is something very extraordinary. I think you’ll recognize it. Go ah
ead and open it.”
Monson did just that. Inside was the chain mail glove pictured in the journal. Monson’s eyes widened. He quickly glanced up at Grayson, who grinned.
“I thought that we may be able to use this in your training, so I had Marie retrieve it from storage.”
“Why did you think that exactly?”
“Call it a hunch.” Grayson removed the glove from the container and handed it to Monson, who took it with relish.
Monson examined the glove. The first thing he noticed was its weight; the glove was extremely light. He ran his hands across the shiny surface and wondered what exactly it was made of. It seemed too light to be steel or iron and too glossy to be titanium. There was also a surreal glow to it. He caressed the plate and then the indentation on the back of the glove. Strange runes etched onto the solid metal glimmered in the light as he shifted it back and forth. He traced his finger around the top of the plate where it seemed a piece was missing.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Grayson watched Monson’s expression.
“Of course,” agreed Monson. “But what does this have to do with training?”
Grayson shrugged. “It’s a weapon, remember? I thought maybe the Being of Seven Bloods might be able to make it work. No one in the organization has been able to so far.”
“If no one has gotten it to work then why are you so sure it’s a weapon?”
Grayson peered at him patronizingly. “That’s another great question. I’ll show you. Look at this.”
Monson looked over Grayson’s shoulder at the journal as Grayson flipped to one of the many close-up drawings of the Tower. At the corner of the page, at the very bottom of the Tower, there were illustrations of warriors brandishing weapons of all sorts. To the far left of the page, next to the binding, was a man wielding a wicked-looking sword in one hand and wearing a glove that had another sword materializing from it.
“No freakin’ way!” Monson grabbed the magnifying glass and held it to the page. Sure enough, there were lines indicating a plate and an indentation just like that of the glove in front of him.
“The Magi’s Blade perhaps?” whispered Grayson. “And a weapon to conjure it?”
“I don’t know. But I think we should find out.” Monson stood to leave. “Let’s go.”
***
Monson, Marie and Grayson headed to the southwest part of the campus. It was a deliberate choice; Grayson assured them that this section of the national forest had the greatest amount of open space and was farthest from any actively used building. An important concern if they considered the possibility that Monson might consciously access his power and lose control of it. That could be disastrous. Grayson pointed out that the last thing they needed was government agents showing up, thinking there was another terrorist attack. Discretion acted as an incredibly potent ally in this situation.
The three proceeded down a ripped-up walkway and arrived at an equally dilapidated building. The old dormitory, most likely; the location fit and the shabby exterior was a dead giveaway. The old slightly dilapidated building came as a surprise. It should not have been there. It just did not fit with the rest of the campus. It was made of faded red brick and deeply stained wood, compared with the slick modernistic Roman mix of stone, white brick and marble of the rest of the campus. It reminded Monson of images of Victorian New England, with a mix of other unidentifiable influences thrown in for good measure. Monson remembered hearing rumors of Coren’s origin, something about a massive pioneer settlement. This was probably a testament to that. Yet why leave it here in this state? What were they waiting for?
Grayson and Marie paid the old place little attention. Monson decided to follow suit and the three steadily made their way past the structure into the forest.
In that short walk, Monson became a bit distressed that Casey and Artorius weren’t with him. The fact that he was hiding all this from them was causing him a great deal of anguish. But he wasn’t sure that anyone else should know about his “condition”—at least not yet. He needed to figure out what this was all about before he could involve his friends. He was concerned for their safety. He had already lost his grandfather; he was not going to lose anyone else. He promised himself that.
Monson glanced briefly at his companions. Marie noticed and gave him a small smile. He smiled back. Regardless of the fact that he really did not know them very well, Monson was glad that Grayson and Marie were going to be there to help in case things got out of hand. He was not sure what they could do, but it diminished his rapidly growing apprehension to know that he would not have to face this alone.
“This seems like a good spot.” Grayson scanned the area as they entered a clearing about two hundred yards from the tree line of the campus. “I think we’re deep enough that we won’t attract attention. Not a lot of people come out here.”
“Comforting.” Monson took his jacket off and rolled up his sleeves. Taking some time to think about the demonstration that Dawn, Yari and Gi had provided for him, he eventually concluded that everything that he needed to complete the task of the Blade could be found in that. Like any other puzzle, there was some deeper meaning to the formation of the Magi Blade; his conversations with Dawn had taught him that. It was as if the Blade was a means to an end instead of an end in itself.
“OK, let’s go over it again,” said Grayson. “Step by step. What did the two men do?”
Monson quickly retold the story as Marie and Grayson listened carefully. Marie even took notes. They stood in silence as all three mulled over the information.
“As far as I can see, this feat can be divided into three main parts.” Grayson studied Marie’s notes. “All other actions appear to revolve around the creation of the shell, the source or summoning the power, then the joining of the two with some sort of binding. Are we all in agreement thus far?’
He looked around as Monson and Marie nodded their approval. “So the question now is, how is this supposed to help you master Kei?”
They relapsed into silence.
“It is a symbol.” Marie’s quiet voice carried as she looked over their shoulders. “A representation of something fundamental to learning how to use magic.”
“How do you figure that?” wondered Monson.
“If you think about what they did, that is the only possible solution.” Marie stared at the notepad in Grayson’s hand. “They did not teach you anything, but only demonstrated the process, almost like they expected you to understand the parts if they could show you the whole.”
“That kind of makes sense,” agreed Grayson. “What was it that Dawn said about the first step of magic? Something about knowledge and belief.”
“Yeah.” Monson attempted to recall his second encounter with Dawn. “Dawn said that most people had the ability to perform magic, but it was their own thought process that prevented them from using it.”
“Well, perhaps if you start with just trying to consciously access your power?” suggested Marie. “Maybe the process will come to you after that.”
Monson nodded. “I guess I could give it a try. It’s not like I have anything else to go on.” Then a thought occurred to him.
“Hold up. Grayson you’re a member of H.U.M.A.N.E and can at least use AOI. Can you teach me how to use my power?”
Grayson shook his head regretfully. “I wish I could. But unfortunately that’s not how it works. Remember I told you that Sentinels are found and then trained? The reason for that is because we have not figured out how to awaken powers; it’s only after someone discovers them on their own that we can offer any training.”
Monson sighed heavily. “I figured you’d say that.”
With nothing else to say, Monson walked to the center of the clearing, twenty or thirty yards from Grayson and Marie. He stood, closed his eyes, and began gathering his concentration, searching for anything uncommon within the depths of himself. The Magi Blade was a symbol, a symbol of something fundamental, but that process had to have a beginning.
&n
bsp; Find it, he said to himself. Find the beginning of that process.
A half an hour passed with nothing.
Monson opened his eyes and took notice of Grayson and Marie standing passively at the edge of the clearing, giving him their undivided attention. He studied their faces and almost laughed. Amazing how he could tell so much about what a person was thinking from a simple facial expression. Grayson watched Monson with calm, studious, unmovable faith. No matter the odds, Grayson Garrett believed in him. There was no trace of doubt anywhere on his countenance. Marie’s expression was equally serene, though Monson had the feeling that her musings were slightly different; it was not him she believed in. Both continued to watch him for more than an hour without moving a muscle or saying a word. They just watched as Monson pursued every creative avenue, lurking expanse, and fleeting impression that popped up within the depths of his mind. He tried to recreate the situations when he had inadvertently used magic, hoping to mimic the outcome, only to have all his attempts end in failure.
He was starting to get frustrated. He sat down on the ground intending to rest. Unable to tame his wandering mind, he simply reviewed what he knew. He just did not understand how he could be expected to sort this out on his own, or why Dawn and the others were not more forthcoming. What was it he was supposed to do? What was he missing? His thoughts were a bit overwhelming and Monson could not help but despair a bit. He again thought back to his dream, trying to remember the acts of Yari and Gi and the words of Dawn. As he tried to again thrust himself into the dream, it was at that moment that he remembered…
“Look deep within the depths of your heart and remember. The power to perform will be there when you need it and the tools are all around if you know where to look. The air, the earth, the flame, the mist, and the heavens will guide you.”
Gi’s words echoed in the swirling depths of his mind.
Still, no revelation or inspiration came to him. He continued to ask himself, what was he supposed to do? Or better yet, what was he supposed to remember?